Jenny swatted troubles like the Bambino hit fly balls. Outta da park. Trouble was, the troubles all started in Clifford park. Night games. Under bright lights. Big diamond. Bases loaded.
Bases not covered though. These Troubles, they came from outta town. Then they came at Jenny. They came like bats outta hell. Dastardly dudes. Uniforms not included. Jenny didn't have a fighting chance to crack a full swing. They mauled her and they balled her, the Troubles did. Yep, Jed Trouble and his stinky brother Fred. They left poor Jenny under the bleachers for dead. Those Louisville muggers yanked the big diamond from the dainty chain wrapped tight 'round her sultry neck. Honest to gumption, ripped it right smack dab off her head. Just left Jenny bleedin' and coagulatin' there dead. Right there, near right field. Some say it ain't so Joe, but Me? Well hell, don't take no more'n rookie to call that steal, foul play.
Pitchin' woo ain't all it's cracked up to be, I guess. Even with the spin. Home team advantage may bring an easy score, but when a close game was a close game, Jenny always cried out for more. She knew her fan base, Jenny did. She keened who was on first, what was on second and had no never mind for those who slid in their "I don't knows." Jenny was no benchwarmer. She rallied. She played the field.
But no sirree Bob, even if your name ain't even Bob, but Stanley or Kevin, there are days that turn night into night games. Wreak cold havoc hell from hot streak heaven. Dark nights when all hell is split seams and nuttin' but nuttin' is as it really seems. That's the way it was with Jenny. She was some cracker jack and prize all rolled into one. The team players? They all knew Jenny's number. "Tight squeeze in a hot box" was what they dubbed her. Megaphones not included. They jes whispered raspy, up close and personal. Jenny took it all in like peanuts and beer and hot dogs. She had some appetite Jenny did.
But purty Jenny had winning ways about her. Her stats were chock full o' sass and that gal never struck out. That's how she got that flashy diamond in the first place. Coach's favourite. The one who made it to more than first base. Offered her a whole new ball game. Promised to keep her safe at home and backstop her fears with a white picket fence just this side o' Easy Street. Sunday double-headers topped off with a stroll to the corner ice cream store. Peachy keen, who could ask for anything more?
Jenny could. I thought that diamond was forever but she dug out a few rubies, a sparkling sapphire and an emerald or two too. All on a coach's meager take at the gate.
Well, that was 'bout all Coach Ted Casey could take.
Mebbe could be why Ted called up the farm team -- cousins Jed and Fred.
It's a dismal town now, down near the playin' fields.
There's no joy in Meadville since mighty Casey's revenge struck out.
Over apple pie though, Ma fingers her stunning brooch and smiles truth at Aunt Ruth with the dangly earbobs . . . she calls it a triple play.
